Opposing Forces of Nature
by Lenore483
Summary: The world is comprised of two opposing forces, most see them as good and evil. Tom Riddle knows only power, the natural forces at work is no concern of his. Hermione knows only what is right, and has fought for it her entire life. "Terrible things happen to wizards who meddle with time" but sometimes the hardest thing to do, is nothing at all. Dark Timeturner Tomoine
1. The Psychopath and the Empath

**I recently reread the story** **"Ultima Ratio"** **by Winterblume (probably my all time favorite Fanfic) and I just had to write this.**

 **Warning this story contains dark themes like human sacrifice, blood magic, torture and most likely character death. This is dark, more like a horror story like the old mythologies or fairy tales before they were rewritten for kids. Tom is a true psychopath but Hermione is not a victim.**

 **Psychopath**  
 _N. A person suffering from chronic mental disorder with abnormal or violent social behaviour._  
 _INFORMAL an unstable and aggressive person_  
 _  
_ **Empath**  
 _n. (Chiefly in science fiction) a person with the paranormal ability to perceive the mental or emotional state of another individual_

 **Disclaimer: the above definitions of empath and psychopath are from the "Oxford Dictionary of English " and the characters and places in the following story are the works of our Queen JK Rowling, and belong to Bloomsbury and Warner Bros and other companies that are rich and successful. I hold no claim to any of it except for the very made up situations I have suddenly smashed these characters into.**

* * *

It was a surprise really, the whole bizarre situation Hermione had wound up in.

She was always amazed at the very odd situations one finds themselves in after you enter the magical world, and being friends with Harry Potter meant having a front seat to bizarre events. Being a muggleborn meant all of her knowledge came from books since her two best friends were knuckleheads who either, like herself, had grown up in the muggle world, or in Ron's case thought everything that wasn't obvious was, and everything that should be obvious wasn't.

Still she had never heard of a case when one gets thrown through time and space, from a battlefield to a muggle war half a century earlier. And she figured if anyone should know, it would have been her.

Suddenly she had been shipped off to Hogwarts, to attend her last year of schooling in 1945. It was nice being able to finish her 7th year, a part of her regretted the decision to go camping in the woods instead of sitting at a desk for a year. Another part of her would remind her that said school was house to a bunch of Death Eaters eager to maim and kill her, or at the very least torture her for information about her best friend.

So she figured being stuck in the wrong century did have some perks. Sure Grindelwald and World War 2 was annoying, but Hermione had learned every single detail about both wars in the fascination of how they interacted. And she was safe in Scotland in a castle filled with innocent children. If anything this was like a vacation.

Underneath her joy of going back to Hogwarts, her brain was whirring with possibilities, consequences and plans for the upcoming year. It was giving her a headache so she decided to take a nap.

When she woke up again, leaning against the window with drool dripping on her robe, she noticed with horror that she was surrounded by boys. From their sneers, she guessed Slytherins, as her sleeve had slid down and revealed the word Bellatrix had carved into her.

With growing apprehension she wiped the drool and tried to collect herself. "Excuse me." She intoned lightly.

"Why don't you get another place to stay, Mudblood!" She cringed slightly but decided against confrontation in a small enclosed space against 3 unknown adversaries.

"Now there Malfoy, no need to be rude to the new girl." She blinked and tried to look closer at the person with the sweet melodic voice.

"Thank you, Mister?"

"Riddle, but please call me Tom." He leaned forward and gave her a dashing smile she could not help but stagger against.

Whatever Hermione had expected Voldemort to be in his teens, this was not it. As she gazed upon the infamous man she was struck dumb by his beauty, a feat no other man could say he had done, for she always had a number of things to say in anger against men and even more so against Slytherins. But here was a man, nay yet a boy, capable of such wretched acts of violence and hate that she had hour long monologues she could throw at him that even the most unfeeling human would cringe and look away in guilt.

Yet she could only gape at him, wonder at his perfection. His most prominent features were his insanely high cheekbones that protruded out of his face, sharp enough to cut you should you try and caress his cheek. They sharpened his features, even more, added by his sharp jawline and piercing eyes. That elegant jawline that descended down into a strong neck with taunt muscles that you could scarcely see a pulse tick against the soft marble skin. That white soft grace against his sharp bones, contrasted by his dark hair and eyebrows. His eyebrows fighting against his cheekbones for attention in their sharpness. They were thick, elegant and in complete control by a man who's soul, even at this point in time, was darker than his hair. A darkness that drew you in, lured you, sang to you like a siren, promising joy and pleasure while showing you a path to death and destruction. A darkness that would claim you, hold you slave while you begged for more.

His lips were blood red, the only part of his natural features that showed this creature was not from a black and white movie, they made her wonder if it was coloured by his victims blood.

Finally, her gaze travelled to what had drawn her in, at first, his unfathomable grey eyes. Of all the things she noticed about him, they took her by surprise the most. For all the other things reminded you of the danger lurking underneath, of a void that would devour you, eat you alive while you rejoiced that he had chosen you. But his eyes were filled with emotion, a stark contrast to the stories she had heard of him, and of what she believed. Her entire life she had believed that the eyes were the Windows to the soul, but his were inviting, warm and comforting even with their cold grey colour. She thought herself a fool for seeing what she saw in them, for seeing love and devotion and passion. As she stared back at him, however, she was compelled by darkness to yield to a monster she had sworn to destroy. Yet with every fiber of her being she knew it was already too late, and she knew she was already lost.

"And what may I call you beauty?" He still gazed at her with cold and tempting eyes that Hermione knew had fooled so many, and yet here she was fooled as well.

"Jean Roddich"

"What a common and yet such an unusual name." He said, and by the sniggers of his comrades Hermione knew he was mocking her heritage while he still could claim to be innocent and paying her a compliment. "How lovely." The glint in his eyes made her uneasy, usually, she could tell exactly what people were feeling and what drove them. The compelling qualities of Tom Riddle were a mystery to her, though, for as much as they seemed to emanate the emotions of a good, kind and gentle soul, something was off.

"Thank you." Her voice stammered, he cocked his head and she prayed to any deity that would hear her that he believed her to be yet another girl who had fallen for his charms. "I must be off, it was nice meeting you."

She flicked her wand and practically ran out into the corridor, heart racing and palms sweating while her luggage innocently floated next to her.

* * *

She managed to avoid any more odd interactions with people of the past while she went over her reasoning for going back to Hogwarts. She didn't have much of a choice really, she had no money, no actual education as far is this period was concerned. There was a war raging, meaning the muggle world was on rations, and she didn't want to use her wand to steal from already starving muggles.

Really her choices were Hogwarts, starvation, persecution (she had once out of curiosity checked if she would be considered Jewish in the eyes of the Nazi soldiers. Turns out, she would have especially with her hair), or she could kill herself. Out of all those choices, the only one she would consider was Hogwarts.

It was selfish really, her will for survival might mean messing up the timeline and condemning others to death with her actions.

But being sent back must mean something.

They were almost there, and Hermione needed to change her clothes. She had been roaming the corridors and decided a bathroom was the best course of action. She slipped in and started undressing. When she was just in her bra and skirt she heard the door click shut and the lock turned.

She whirled around and saw the handsome face of Tom Riddle. She tried to cover her chest with her robes, still halfway through changing into her uniform, stuck in between fight or flight against this foe.

"Well, aren't you precious?" He was eyeing the skin exposed between the folds of her robes, and her hand clutching her sides.

"What do you want?" Fear, anger, indignation, shame and worry laced her words, but Riddle was too busy eyeing her to notice those things, he just saw the red lines of her scars that were mostly hidden against her robe.

"Who did that to you?" Her eyes shot down to where his was trained.

"My scar?"

"Your gift." He stepped closer to her, towering over her small frame, and she gasped, holding her arms tighter against her. But he wrenched her right arm away from her, looking closer at the word carved there. "So beautifully done." He leaned down to inspect it and kissed her right over the u in the word "Mudblood".

Continuing kissing the scar, Hermione tried to wrench away from him, But the hand clutching her tiny wrist tightened. His fingers were so long and strong, going all the way around her arm, his thumb was touching his pinky. It was a mirror of their contrasting strengths, how with just a tiny portion of his strength he overwhelmed and controlled hers.

Her heart was beating fast and erratically. "Please, let me go." She pleaded.

"What a thrilling sound, you begging me." He bit her arm where the last letter of her scar was, as to punctuate her inferiority him. "I want more."

Hermione snapped out of it then, the weakened stance, the begging, the prayer for it to stop. "I will never give you anything." She snapped, and dropped her robe to slap him with her other hand. But before it connected, he intercepted it, clutching both her wrist.

He now stared with a hungry gaze over her body while he straightened. "So much skin to work with. All the possibilities..." he murmured and then pushed her against the wall, holding her hands above her head, pressing his body against hers.

"You will yield to me eventually." He deadpanned and then leaned forward to kiss her, but Hermione had enough and swiftly brought her knee up to connect with his groin. His yelp and groan of surprise and pain made Hermione smirk. He let her go to hold his groin and try to stand upright by leaning against the wall. Quickly Hermione pulled on the last of her uniform and levitate her trunks after her.

Before she left the toilet she turned around to look at him. He was smirking at her, like causing him pain had gained her some sort of respect in his eyes.

"I will never yield to you, no matter what you do." She turned and opened the door, but before she could pass the threshold he called after her.

"I've been looking for a worthy opponent for quite some time. I guess I finally found one." She didn't have an answer for that, so she walked out slamming the door behind her.


	2. The Badger and the Snake

**Sorry for the long wait! This story was hard to continue, I need to be in a very specific mindset, or at least be watching a series with a delicious Psychopath or Sociopath. Not to worry, I will continue updating and hopefully within shorter intervals.**

 **Thanks to the people that follow or has favorited this story.**

 **Thanks to** **Lady Akane Jim for the lovely review, and sorry for the incredibly long wait. Hopefully, that won't happen again!**

 **Xx**

 **Harry Potter and its characters belong to Bloomsbury, Warner Bro, and the queen JK Rowling to mention some. I do not own any of the characters or places in this story. The definition of badger and Snake is from the Oxford dictionary of English which I don't own either.**

* * *

 **Badger**

Verb: repeatedly and annoyingly ask (someone) to do something.

Noun: a heavily built omnivorous nocturnal mammal of the weasel family, typically having a gray and black coat.

 **Snake**

Verb: move or extend with the twisting motion of a snake.

Noun: a long limbless reptile which has no eyelids, a short tail, and jaws that are capable of considerable extension. Some snakes have a venomous bite.

* * *

Hufflepuff

What a surprise that was, she had not expected to end up in that house. Maybe Slytherin because of her desire to be left alone, a trait which she seemed to share with all snakes. Or Gryffindor of course, as all her Hogwarts career she had been all of those things so completely. Maybe even Ravenclaw to go with her studious nature, but Hufflepuff?

When her eyes sought out and found Tom Riddle's as she sat down, she saw the way he snickered and laughed at her. But she could also see the rage in him. Maybe he was mad that she had escaped his claws by ending up in a different house? Or maybe it was the fact that he had just said she was his first worthy opponent and she had ended up in the "weakest" house of Hogwarts.

She couldn't help the self-satisfied smirk at the last thought. Somebody at the table looked at her oddly, but then smiled when she met their eyes. So trusting, such a nice change she thought fondly as she looked over at the girl.

"Welcome to Hufflepuff! I'm Susan."

"Nice to meet you, Susan, I'm Jean if you missed it earlier." certainly nicer than the people she had met up with on the train. Susan was smiling at her again, the sort of open trusting smiled that just endeared you to a person.

"These are my friends." she pointed to a bunch of people and said their names, but Hermione was a bit overwhelmed and looked it. Or so she gathered from the giggles of them, and the boy to her left (Marc?) who told her "Don't worry, we'll remind you if you forget." and then he gave her a dashing smile.

"Thank you." she said, unable to be anything but grateful in a world where there would eventually be so many enemies.

They talked with her all through dinner, and Hermione eventually found her cheeks hurting a bit from all the smiling. It had been such a long time since she smiled. Apparently the smiles on her new housemates faces weren't forced or something you came into the house with. It was the result of being around so many openhearted genuinely nice people.

As they walked her to her new home for the year, she couldn't help but think of Harry and Ron, and how much they both would have loved this house. This would have been a second family for Harry and a joy for Ron since it was so close to the kitchen.

* * *

Tom was furious.

He had been all through dinner, his followers had long since pulled away a bit, or refrained from talking. No one wanted to be the one at the other end of Voldemorts anger and subsequent wand if they could help it.

That stupid smile on her face was both annoying and alluring, and he hated her for it. Part of him wanted to call her a Mudblood again, and see that smile turn into a pretty little frown, then maybe into that anger, that fire that seemed to spark slightly when provoked.

He also wanted that fire to spread from her eyes to her body, and push it towards him in anger, he was semi erect just thinking about that anger. It seemed like only stupid noble Gryffindor boys took the bait when you poked them with thinly veiled insults. They were too stupid, and too hard, like rigid stone, unmoving and boring in their anger.

But that girl, the little Mudblood, she had some of that fire. He had tasted some of it when he cornered her on the express, licking at her soft skin where she was so beautifully marked.

That's what he wanted, fire that seemed so soft, so pliable, but stoke it a little and it would consume you, burn you to the ground in an inferno that left so little evidence. The true fire didn't let itself be smothered, it found a way around your efforts to kill it. Sometimes biding its time, flaring up again when you think you're safe.

Then she had the gall to be in Hufflepuff. That boring sad excuse of a house. He frowned deeply at her, letting his other thought of dealing with that stupid smile linger in his thoughts.

For he could take a knife to her cheek. Make that smile permanent, knowing he had caused it. She would have more of her skin permanently altered, but this time by _him._ Proclaiming to the world that only _he_ could proudly say he was the cause of this smile.

Her skin would be red as those plump lips stretching across her face, at least for a little while. And he would get to see more of those teeth. _Those fucking perfect teeth_ that mockingly smiled at stupid Hufflepuffs who were so beneath her.

The thought of her eyes being so sad, and angry, and accusatory after he had carved out a beautifully curved smile stretching across her face. Showing her perfect teeth while glinting and bleeding with magnificent red blood seeping into them, pouring down her jawline, onto her neck. It all made him want to rub one out at the table, fucking minions be damned.

When they returned to the common room, he felt a pull towards the kitchen, to _their_ common room. He ignored it, mostly, only allowing his eyes to follow her form as she was laughing in that tinkling precious laugh he wanted to steal. Of course, she was flanked by Hufflepuffs, her _friends._

In the dungeons he was surrounded by people others would be as bold to call _his_ friends. But they were mere pawns to move around at his whim, seemingly making their own moves, as he followed their progress over the imaginary board. He was the man that made them move, where she seemed to be moved by her _friends._

She wouldn't see it that way, but in his mind, they were her pawns. Pawns he needed to conquer using his own.

* * *

In classes, she proved worthy to be called enemy again. He caught every twitch when the teacher asked a question, or when a student made a stupid remark. Yet she sat quietly, patient, waiting. Where his face was one of boredom, hers was utmost attentive, like she devoured knowledge easier than food. Like the only thing keeping her tethered to this world and not the next was knowledge.

She tried so very hard not to glance his way, and he admired her efforts. Her eyes were easily kept in check, but the rest of her body made her so easy to read, twitching, coiling, relaxing. Every sudden move he made was answered with one of her own.

His followers kept back that day while her friends surrounded her. He commanded the distance, she wanted their presence.

Their similarities were made so much better by their differences. He wanted to see if he could even them out, make her his toy instead of his adversary.

It took days before she was alone, moving towards the library no doubt. Most puffs used their time working together in the common room, delegating a task to each other, helping each other out. One would get refreshments, some would go around helping, others would discuss, and a few would rely on everyone else. But the roles were always changing, flexible yet always present. Hermione loved the sense of camaraderie and belonging.

She was so lost in thought she missed him at first. Glaring at him when he came closer, trying to escape him.

"Hufflepuff huh?" He caught up with her, matching her short angry strides. Even though the little fireball had a high speed to her steps, his gait easily matched hers.

"What's it to you?" she didn't even look at him as she continued to move through the castle. Perhaps she hoped to get rid of him by finding some of her annoying housemates. Or maybe she just wanted to be somewhere more public so he wouldn't attack her.

"Here I thought you had fire, bravery and all those things that make you a Gryffindor. But you turn out to be a poor defenseless Puff." She finally stopped and faced him, Her face was calm, but her eyes were filled with rage. At first glance, she was calm and collected but ready to attack. White knuckles clutching her books while they shivered slightly, and shoulders facing forward but slumping spoke volumes on her fear hidden behind it.

"Oh Tom, I thought you knew better." her condescension was dripping through her words. How little she must think of Slytherins, or maybe it was just him she loathed this much.

Ire provoked, he took the bait and raised an eyebrow "oh?" he snarled.

"Badgers eat snake for dinner." and with a look that promised pain, she moved away. Twirling on the spot, her bushy hair flicked behind her to cover any facial cues as she walked away.

"is that a threat?" he called out after her, making her turn towards him again, still clutching her books to her chest. Before she could retort with what would certainly be an insult of some kind, judging by her angry furrowed eyes and stern mouth, he continued "or is it a promise?" He licked his lips slightly at that, moving his hand suggestively towards his crotch. The way her entire body turned rigid amused him. Her mouth had fallen open in shock, and she was spluttering, unable to respond to such a lewd suggestion.

Instead, she threw him another one of those icy stares that contradicted her fiery nature. They stood there, staring, daring each other to stand down or make the first move.

Then her friends came, and she turned into that warm sickeningly lovely creature that others seemed to love. That same creature that made him want to devour her in his sickening ways, his deviant perplexing horrifying way.

The way he looked at her as she walked away was the reason why they hated him at the orphanage. It gave those who looked at him chills.

It was a promise of a magnitude of pain for the person he stared at, and one of immense pleasure for him.

The hungry snake coiling together to strike its enemy.

But the badger stared back, and the look was almost mirrored.

Badger and Snake, in the end, they could not live side by side. One would surely kill the other, for that is nature's way.


End file.
